Always
by BlackBandit111
Summary: Bucky has nightmares, Steve has memories. It helps both of them. Post WS. Slash. For Kat.


_**Hello, Captain America fandom! This is actually a request made by my good friend Kat, so Kat: I hope you enjoy this little oneshot, and I'm sorry if they're a little OOC. You know what fluff does. **_

_**Disclaimer: Don't own it, want to own it but...don't *Sobs***_

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There were always the good days. The good days had finally come to outweigh the bad ones; it had been tough, Steve admitted this freely. Tough to find him, to look after him, to watch him rant and rave and scream.

Hard to watch Him become Bucky again.

But It was over, after months of shouts and tears and little sleep. No more.

_Bucky had been in the process of breaking out of their quiet cabin where Steve had taken him to recover- again- and Steve had hastily seized Bucky by both arms and drawn the thrashing man to his chest, so they were standing heart to heart. The fighting had abruptly ceased, and two confused baby blue eyes had peered into his own. Bucky's brows furrowed, and there was a bright pool of clarity that Steve had had yet to see._

_"...Steve?"_

Steve looked back on this moment with fondness; this had been the moment when he had regained his confidant, his best friend, his Bucky; the Bucky he had known since he was a small child before the war; the Bucky who had defended him against all sorts of bullies and picked him up and dusted him off when he stumbled.

Another month had passed before Buck felt sturdy on his own two feet (and not _His_ feet, not _His_ face nor _His_ personality nor _His_ heart) in which Steve decided that it was time to return to New York. They packed up and went on a road trip, of sorts, and Steve taught Bucky all the things he had learned about the modern world (Bucky remembered little about the time he was brainwashed and an assassin, and Steve didn't inquire as to why. Some things were unmentionable). The questions were insatiable.

_"And what's that, over there?"_

_"A skyscraper."_

_"Why? What does it do?"_

_"...Well, it does a lot of things. Sometimes people live there, other times they work there, and things like that."_

_"Oh. And what do they work at?"_

_"Computers, mostly, I think."_

_"Right. Steve?"_

_"Yeah, Buck?"_

_"What are computers?"_

It was late one night, and Avengers Tower was quiet. Tony was out to dinner with Pepper, Natasha and Clint were on a mission for S.H.I.E.L.D., Bruce was working in one of the labs and Thor had returned to Asgard for the time being.

Steve and Bucky had their own floors, but they generally shared Steve's, both finding solace in the company and the nostalgia. They slept in different bedrooms, sometimes, for Bucky was still acclimating and, of course, didn't remember certain aspects of his life. If he did remember what Steve did, Bucky was either too shy to act upon it or too uncomfortable still.

It wasn't that Steve was denying his feelings for Bucky. He wasn't. Bucky still made his heart race and his knees go wobbly and his mind weak. But Bucky didn't remember that Steve had done the same thing to him, and, well…

Some things were just unmentionable.

Steve couldn't explain to Bucky the soaring of his heart or the hitch in his breath or the way Bucky's eyes seemed to hold his whole soul…

Shaking his head, Steve turned over in bed, pulling the covers up higher. Now was not the time for contemplation. Now was the time for sleep, and peace, and perhaps some dreams of a different time and a different place. Now was not the time for demons.

The moonlight gently bathed him in an ethereal light, letting him know he was not alone.

Steve closed his eyes.

He awoke to a petrified scream.

Pulling himself forcefully from his dream, Steve threw back the covers, springing from bed. He knew what was going on.

"Sir, Mr. Barnes is having a particularly troublesome nightmare," JARVIS informed as Steve pulled on a shirt.

"Yeah, I know it," he muttered, wincing as another scream filled the air. "Tell any of the team that are here not worry," Steve commanded, throwing open the door to his bedroom. "Tell them I've got it."

He didn't get the chance to hear JARVIS' response, eyes focused on the thrashing figure on the bed.

He rushed forward, standing a little ways away. He knew by now what Bucky's nightmares looked like, and had dealt with plenty of them before. He knew how to handle this.

"Bucky," he called, brows furrowing as his eyes followed Bucky's erratic movements, "Bucky, wake up!"

Still no reply.

Swallowing, Steve approached the bed slowly, hands held up in front of him just in case Bucky awoke and didn't know what was going on. Leaning over but not looming, Steve repeated, "Buck?" He only received a strangled cry. Sighing, he gently took his friend's shoulders and gave them a small shake. "Buck. Bucky, wake up."

Steve's heart wrenched as Bucky weakly batted his hands, moaning. "Please Bucky, WAKE UP!"

A fist flew by his face, and if not for his reaction time Steve would have been clipped on the nose. The thrashing grew more violent as Bucky swung his arms wildly, kicking out even though he couldn't reach Steve from where he stood. "BUCKY!"

It was frightening how still Bucky suddenly became, and Steve's heart skipped a beat and leaped into his throat.

The whimper that came next sounded like it came from a child. "S-Steve?"

Steve knew Bucky rarely cried. He was a man of few words and abundant actions, and was not easily overwhelmed or beaten. He had been kidnapped, fallen from a train, experimented on, and had undergone such terrible things over the years that Steve couldn't imagine. Bucky rarely cried. When he did, it was heart-wrenching and hard, and even harder to witness.

And now, with Bucky's tears gently sliding down his cheeks and the pounding of his pulse in his ears, Steve lowered himself down onto the bed behind his friend, pulling him against his chest. Bucky clung to him, hands fisting in the Steve's nightshirt.

"I don't _want_ to go," he sobbed quietly, burying his face in Steve's shoulder.

Steve swallowed, twining his arms around Bucky's trembling body. "You're not going anywhere," he murmured. "I promise."

"I remember…" he choked, and Steve quietly shushed him.

Steve remembered, too. He remembered late nights and hand holding and shared smiles. He remembered warm sun and happy laughter and quiet camaraderie. He remembered the hole in his chest that had formed when Bucky had been lost...and the elation when he had been found. He remembered.

And it hurt more than anything he had ever known.

And Bucky remembered. Bucky remembered lights, and pain, and flashes of a life he didn't quite understand. He remembered battles, and laughter, and happiness. He remembered cold numbness, a bitter taste in his mouth, and screaming. And he remembered Steve, sometimes. Little images of beautiful things that were just...out of...reach…

He didn't know if the feelings in his heart were wrong or right, but he did know that he couldn't deny them.

"Steve…" He muttered, hiccuping. His eyelashes were sticking together, and he was only halfheartedly annoyed with himself for his tears. "...Stay with me."

The response was quick and took no thought. "Always."

They lay in silence for the rest of the night, and didn't move even when the moon retired and the sun dawned bright and crisp.

They had each other, and didn't have to think or speak or move for a few, blissful hours of companionship.

And they had each other.

Always.

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_**Hey, so...uh..I understand they're a little OOC, but I think that that's what someone might do in that situation. Believe it or not, I actually don't really ship Stucky. Kat does, so it was sort of something just for her. Not bagging on the ship. Just saying.**_

_**Okay! Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it and please leave me a comment on your thoughts!**_


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